Subject: Last of the Line – Chapter 129 Last of the Line by badboi666 =============================================================================== If sex with boys isn’t your thing, go away. If, as is much more likely, you’ve come to this site precisely to get your rocks off reading about sex with 14-year-olds then make yourself comfortable – you’re in the right place. Don’t leave, however, without doing this: Donate to Nifty – these buggers may do it for love but they still have to eat. fty/donate.html NOTE to the reader: “Peter Brown” aka badboi666 is, as you might guess, not in the first flush of youth: indeed he is well into the you’ll-die-if-you-get-this-fucking-thing age cohort. If he gets a nasty cough and a temperature he will post a synopsis of what is still to come. Then, if he snuffs it, you can at least have some idea of what befell Dab in the end. The good news is that he has had his first Pfizer shot. =============================================================================== Chapter 129 “When are we getting on with it?” asked Eric about three minutes after Rob and Rose had gone. “Not until 9 o’clock. You’ve got to spend five hours working yourselves up.” “That’s not fair,” complained Ralphie, “I need to cum now.” “Hands off,” said Dodo, “you’ll cum all the harder if you wait. Don’t forget the sling’s in the big room, and each one of you is going to get fucked in it. That’s worth waiting a few hours for.” “Billy and I have a surprise,” I said, “but we need you three to help. You too, Dodo and Seb. Come on.” “What’s in the lorry?” said Eric, “I thought we carried everything in when we got here.” “Not quite,” said Billy, “we need the last things for tonight. Here,” and he lifted the tarpaulin. Dodo laughed. “Have they been here all the time, Dab? I wish I’d known.” “What is it?” said Vern, who hadn’t seen a disassembled sling before. “I know,” said Eric, “it’s a sling all in bits.” “Almost,” said Billy, “it’s two slings. Now come on, help carry then upstairs.” Willing hands soon had all the bits laid out on the floor in the big room. The boys watched as Billy and I assembled one, and Seb and Dodo the other. “We used to sell these, in our shop,” said Seb, “and these are the best kind there is.” Soon we had three slings – two spanking new and the old one, in which so many hours of pleasure had been spent by so many of us. “Three slings, three boys,” I said, “but not yet. Later. Who wants some beer?” By 7 o’clock I relented – they had waited long enough. Besides, Vern and Ralphie had had enough beer. The last thing any of us wanted was a pair of drunk 14-year-olds throwing up in a corner. “Juice for you two from now on,” I said. “I need a piss,” said Ralphie, “I’ll be back in a minute,” and he got up to go. “Oh no you don’t,” said Dodo, “Dab, can we go up now?” As I say, I relented. “Upstairs, the lot of you. Ralphie, hold on a bit longer.” In less than two minutes we were all in the big room and all naked. “In the slings, you three,” said Dodo, “it’s fuck time at last.” By now the boys were adept at getting into a sling and wriggling down so that their arses were fully exposed. Seb and Dodo fastened their wrists and ankles into the straps and stood back. The six of us admired the sight in front of us. Three hairless arses, three faces wreathed in expectant grins, three cocks like flagpoles. They looked at us. Six fit men, lean and brown (or black), six lustful grins, six cocks like lances. We paired off, Billy and I choosing Vern, Jack and Hamish choosing Ralphie and Dodo and Seb lined up in front of Eric. “Heard of sloppy seconds, Ralphie?” said Jack. Ralphie shook his head. “It’s when I fuck you straight after Hamish has cum and your arse is full of his spunk. I fuck you before it all runs out. It’s the best lube there is.” “Yum yum,” said Ralphie, “can’t wait. But I still need to piss.” “So piss,” said Hamish, kneeling down to get his tongue working on Ralphie’s arse. “Oh fuck,” breathed Ralphie, “I love what you’re … ah! I can’t help it!” Piss was cascading up onto his chest. Jack grinned. Enjoy it, Ralphie, that’s why we’re in here and that’s why Dab filled you with beer. Let it out – we all will.” Until that day piss had not been part of any session any of us had had with the boys: tonight would be a testing of the boundaries, not that I was in much doubt about the ease with which they would be crossed. “That’s so hot,” said Eric, looking over at his brother’s incontinence, “I’m going to hold mine in until I can’t hold it any longer.” “That’s how I like it,” I said, “bursting’s best.” I was kneeling at Vern’s arse giving his crack the familiar treatment. We’d had him in the sling many times and all three of us had discovered what we each liked best. Billy’s bend was always the star attraction, but my tongue and lips (and fingers) were appreciated too. I glanced to my left where Seb was rimming Eric. If I knew Seb it would be some time before Dodo’s cock would get in there. I bent over Vern’s head and whispered, “you’re going to enjoy the longest fuck you’ve ever had. Billy can last an hour.” “I’ll be red raw by then.” “No you won’t; trust me,” I said, “you’ll be so wet that there’s no danger of kayseri escort that.” He grinned up at me. “It’s been fun here, Dab. Tonight’ll be the best.” I nodded. If things went as I expected them to the fun up Vern’s arse would be delivered by at least five cocks – at that time I had no idea whether Ralphie and Eric would visit; after all, they would be on the receiving end of at least five cocks each as well. But all that was in the future, and my experience of orgies was that what was planned at the outset rarely ended up being delivered. My lips found Vern’s: our tongues were urgent. Billy knelt and did to Vern’s arse what he had done to so many arses in a sling – brought its owner to a state of gibbering expectancy. “Fuck me Billy,” moaned Vern. “Not for ages,” I whispered, “he’s only just begun. “Wank me then, Dab, I’m exploding,” he begged. I decided to relent again: I knew full well that at his age with the thrill of being in the sling while Billy did things to his arse he would be able to cum four or five times before he collapsed into exhaustion. His first was about to be delivered. I moved to stand beside him. His cock was rigid with a string of precum leaking onto his belly. I drew back his foreskin, an action which caused another clear drop of boy-nectar to appear at his cock-slit. I licked it up. Vern shuddered. “Oh fuck, Dab, get me off – please.” I glanced at Billy. “Fingers,” I whispered, “hard, if he’s ready.” Billy nodded, “he’s ready all right.” I got my fist round Vern’s cock – six inches of perfect boy – and began to wank him with quick strokes. He started to groan. I nodded to Billy who shoved three fingers deep inside Vern’s gaping arse. “Aaah! I’m … ” but further words were unnecessary. He came gloriously only ten seconds or so after I’d begun to wank him, his cock spurting cum as far as his chest. I went on wanking him while he was cuming – I knew Vern liked it – and only when his cock had no more spunk to shoot did my hand leave his cock. In my house spunk is not allowed to go to waste, so my tongue was soon applying itself on Vern’s chest and belly. “One down,” he murmured happily. I looked up. “How many more?” “Who knows?” he said, “but I’m damn sure they won’t be that big.” “Wait till Billy gets that bend working in your guts – it’s magic.” He grinned, “I know.” Dodo had cum in Eric quite quickly, and Hamish had taken his place. Eric was always keen on sloppy seconds, and if he played his cards right I thought that it certainly wouldn’t stop at seconds that night. Jack was playing a long game with Ralphie, and he was giving his boy long slow thrustings. Dodo had moved to Ralphie’s head and Seb was on his knees with Dodo’s cock being sucked clean. Eric hadn’t cum while Dodo was fucking him, and he made it clear that if someone didn’t get him off soon he would not be pleased. Seb got up and did the honours. Eric moaned mightily – Seb is a wonderful cock-sucker and when Eric came it was straight onto Seb’s tonsils. I was glad there were no windows which opened, otherwise the whole of Lairg would have known. ***** By 10 that night – when we all staggered under a shower and then downstairs for restorative drinks – we had all accomplished most of the permutations of cock, arse and mouth. After about an hour it had struck Seb that being fucked by the three boys would be fun, and if the fucking were delayed too much longer their balls would not be able to do his arse justice. “Out you get,” he said to Ralphie, who was then in the middle sling – the old one – having just been fucked by Jack. Sloppy seconds, we had all been informed, were as much to Ralphie’s delight as to Jack’s. “Wait a minute, Seb,” said the happy 14-year-old, “don’t you want what’s up there?” Seb was happy to oblige, and a good ten minutes passed before a weary Ralphie climbed out. Before he got in Seb tipped a large puddle out of the seat of the sling. “I don’t mind more,” he said, “but I prefer it fresh. Now, which of you lusty lads has only cum once?” “Me,” said Eric, “and it was in your mouth, Seb, remember?” Seb smiled, “I remember it very well, but I didn’t know that you had only cum once. That means when you fuck me – which you are about to do – you’ll last ages and blast hugely. Come on in, Eric.” Eric rubbed his cock-head in Seb’s arse crack – it was a place it had been rubbed many times before – and Seb purred. “Nothing like a boy, is there, Dab?” I was at the time still fucking Vern, and wasn’t far away from cuming, so Seb’s rhetorical question went unanswered. Vern would probably have to be last in the queue to service Seb as the quantity of spunk he had shot onto himself was impressive. Billy’s fuck, which I had suggested to Vern as being likely to last an hour, fell some way short, but as soon as Billy had finished pulsing I was in there, so Vern had been on the receiving end of a good fucking for over the promised hour. Though his arse was hot – deliciously so – there was no sign of its being red raw as he had feared. And then I was suddenly there … my spunk mixing with Billy’s as it had done so often in so many places. I reached forward as I came and my lips found Vern’s. “You’re third,” I panted, “so keçiören escort have a rest.” Ralphie, cleansed of Hamish’s and Jack’s spunk, was standing beside Seb watching Eric’s performance. “I’m next,” he whispered, “but I won’t be able to get hard for a while.” “Don’t worry,” muttered Eric, “there isn’t room for both of us.” (There was, actually, for a long time ago Billy and I had witnessed both Jack and Dodo contorting themselves and managing to get both cocks in at once. You don’t need to be reminded that each of them had 9 or 10 inches, and with girth to match even Seb’s eyes were watering. Entry was effected, and deep insertion achieved (that was the object of the bet), but once fucking began one of them slipped out and the laughter was enough to cause the rest of the enterprise to be abandoned.) A nice bottle of our red and three cocoas were enough to reinvigorate nine males to conversation, if not to further frolicking. I needed to find out what the boys wanted to do – or rather, where they wanted to live. What they wanted to do was only too clear. I’d been the same at their age. “The work here’s done,” I said. “In a few months time the clover will get ploughed in and Jack will plant whatever crops he decides will grow.” I looked at Jack, who nodded. “Until then the Cambridge experimental work on the old 22 acres will carry on, but Hamish and I can cope with that on our heads. We’ve only got one tractor, so we don’t need lots of you to plough. Depending on what I want to plant – seed or saplings – we’ll need labour for a week or two in the autumn.” “So that leaves us with where you three want to be,” I said. “Do you want to stick together, and if so where – here or Uttoxeter?” I stopped to let them think about it, but it was clear that the three of them had already worked out what they wanted. Eric, as usual, was the spokesman. “Dab, can we choose what we want? Is that OK?” “Of course it is, Eric, you can live where you want.” “OK, well, Vern wants to stay with you and Billy. I think he’s in love with Billy’s cock.” Vern blushed in a fine Cunliffe manner, and didn’t hear Hamish’s whispered “he’s not the only one”. “Me and Ralphie have talked about what we want. He wants to stay here with Jack and Hamish but I want to be with Dodo and Seb. Is that all right?” I was surprised: I hadn’t thought that the two brothers might want to be split up. “Are you sure, Eric, Ralphie? You’ve been together all your lives?” Ralphie said that they had spent hours going over it. “If we still had parents and none of this awful stuff had happened we’d have been apart anyway in five years time when Eric leaves home to get married.” “Or to shack up with his boyfriend,” said Seb. Same thing, I thought. “Do if we split up a few years early it’s not that different,” went on Ralphie, “especially as we’ll each be shacking up with … well, with … people we like,” he ended, his red face returning with a vengeance. Hamish cuddled the poor boy. “Aye, he’s a bit special, this one.” +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ That was the pattern for the next several years. From time to time as Inverthrum needed us a party went north to work on the land and play in the big room: that way Dodo and Jack, as well as Eric and Ralphie, stayed in touch with each other. By 2055 the 10-year experiment was over, but Jack saw no reason to change anything growing on the old 22 acres. Across the three estates we were selling a wide range of fruit and vegetables, as well as wine (and of course beer). Apart from the general collapse in society we were doing pretty well. I’m not sure what it was that led to Seb and Dodo going to Italy in 2058 – maybe there wasn’t one big reason – but one day Dodo told me that they wanted to go. There was no reason for them to stay – no reason apart from the fact that were a family by then, and we would miss them – so a few weeks later the four of them left in one of the vans. ‘Four’ because by then Eric and Vern were fit young men – still very sexy and skilled in bed, but no longer the young teenagers who had so set us on fire all stinky from the Chase. As they had grown up the early ties that each of them had had with one of us older couples gradually waned, and by the time they were going to Italy we were really three couples, rather than two trios. We never saw them again, and as the post had collapsed there was no way we could communicate. We never even knew if they had arrived safely. Billy and I were back being a couple on our own again – a pair of fortyish queers, happy with each other. Things remained fairly stable for several more years. The summers didn’t seem to get any hotter, though perhaps the heat started earlier in some years. We soon became accustomed to that most unBritish thing – a rainy season. No longer was the weather a topic of casual conversation as it had been since time immemorial – not least because until about 2040 it had been famously unpredictable. Now we had four months when it rained, often heavily, and eight months which were blessed with only a few inches, and in many years with none at all. What we grew in Uttoxeter and Inverthrum we were ankara kendi evi olan escort able to sell locally, and that continued until the general breakdown in things in around 2070. There were rumours of all kinds of reasons why, ranging from outbreaks of plague, invasion from Europe, gangs of starving city folk – all the fears which had been prevalent hundreds of years earlier grew and were believed. News, such as it was, travelled slowly and in Uttoxeter we were unaware of the looting and burning in Birmingham until several months after it happened. By then Jack and Hamish had been in Inverthrum for over 25 years and we saw them and Ralphie only rarely. Hester had recruited two lads (John and Fred) from the village when the Inverthrum Experiment started, and they stayed with us to work the land. I have no idea whether they were queer – I saw no sign of it – because they didn’t live in the house. During the first few years they remained living in the village and it was only when the first attacks came that I persuaded them to live in what had been Rivers’s flat and the room where Dodo and Jack had been so many years earlier. As well as machine guns I gave them a big wage increase – not that there was much to spend their money on. Billy and I went up to Inverthrum in early 2073. There was a system back then where riders could be hired to carry messages and small items – it didn’t last long, but we used it a lot before jillies started attacking the horsemen – and I had sent a letter to them in the autumn of 2072. A reply had come around Christmas – they were all well and Inverthrum was thriving, all 250-odd acres of it. (Jack had, with my blessing, gone on expanding.) When I told Billy he said we should go and see them while we still could. Travel wasn’t easy, but the ancient electro still worked and charging it every 200 miles was still possible. “Send a rider with a letter, Dab, tell them we’ll come up in a few weeks.” Hester, then in her late 60s, said that of course she could manage. “Pam and I can do everything here, and the militia will keep us safe.” The militia were what she had taken to calling John and Fred, both in their 40s, and by then with considerable experience in keeping unwanted visitors away. They had helped form a band of villagers who had machine guns, and Uttoxeter was generally a safe place for some miles around. The militia tag was deserved. Billy and I set off with the electro loaded with beer and wine – things we knew they didn’t have in Sutherland. The motorways were still the safest way to travel, and there were still a few service stations where the locals saw enough traffic to justify keeping open. That would cease before we next tried to drive north in 2078. It took us two full days, but we made it without incident, largely by dint of driving after dark. We arrived in Lairg at around 9 in the morning. It was hot, and it seemed much quieter than when we had last been up several years before. We’d noticed many more places along the way where buildings were abandoned, many burnt out and others clearly no longer inhabitable, and we’d grown increasingly worried as we headed through what had once been the industrial heart of Scotland. We saw no sign of trouble – unless smoke and fires some miles off in Glasgow counted as trouble; we certainly never saw a living soul once we left the old motorway. But Lairg, though quiet, seemed not to have suffered any destruction. Not for the first time we were glad that my ancestors had chosen to build in such a remote spot. As we headed up the track I sounded the horn as usual. When we reached the house there was no sign of anyone. “That’s odd,” said Billy, “they must have heard that racket miles away.” “Maybe they’re out at the far end over a mile away. Let’s go in and get a kettle on.” The stove was stone cold. “Something’s wrong: there’s no way that stove goes out, even on the hottest day. Look upstairs while I get it going again.” Two minutes later Billy was back down. “I don’t think there’s been anyone here for a few days. The bed’s stone cold and it’s all untidy. They must have left in a rush.” “No that long ago, because the milk’s still OK. Let’s leave the stove and go back into the village. If there’s been trouble someone’s bound to know, and we’re not strangers. We’ll walk though, just in case.” I went to the gun cupboard. Two were missing. Odd, I thought, there should have been three spaces if all three of them had had to leave Inverthrum. I took two shotguns and gave Billy one. We walked more circumspectly down the track than we had driven up it ten minutes earlier. In the 40 minutes it took us to reach the village we saw only two people, each about half a mile away. “Something’s serious,” I said, “Lairg’s not usually like this.” The shop was still functioning, and we looked in. No-one. I called out in case someone was out in the back. “Who’s there?” came back – a woman’s voice. “Dab,” I said, “Dab Cunliffe and Billy, from Inverthrum.” “Oh Dab, thank God!” and an old woman came hobbling in from the back. “Rose?” “Yes, Dab, Rose. Though the petals have faded a bit. More like wrinkled apple now.” I hugged her. She sobbed in my arms. “Oh Dab, thank God you’re here.” =============================================================================== The story continues in Chapter 130 as Rose’s grief is explained. Drop me a line at net – that is after you’ve dropped a few quid. ===============================================================================